RPlog:The Mysterious Ms. Starling
Adjacent to the Corona House, the seat of government on Corellia, is the Imperial base camp established here shortly after the liberation of the planet about a month ago. Imperial army commanders, intelligence agents and several government liasons were all situated here where they supervised over the day-to-day operations of the Imperial military presence on the city and combating the insurgency which had so far remained mostly underground. One problem they were currently facing was tracking down the rebel craft which broke through the Imperial fleet and landed somewhere on Corellia. Imperial and CorSec patrols were out searching for the ship at this very moment. Other reports coming in, which were mostly set aside, involved some disturbances near the ocean bluff. However, the rebel craft was higher on their list of priorities at the moment. Once such government and military official at the base camp is none other than Danik Kreldin, advisor to Warlord Malign and officer in His Imperial Majesty's Navy. Wearing a fedora atop his head and a full dress suit, the middle-aged man looked over a tactical display monitor attached to a wall; red blips moving about a map of Corellia, designating patrol units of both the Empire and CorSec which were currently engaged in the hunt for the rebel Lambda-class shuttle. So far, no luck, but the ship wouldn't be able to hide forever. They would find it. It was only a matter time. An aide brought over a cup of tea which Danik began sipping down immediately; it was a long day, and there was still much left to do. And he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that it would get even longer very soon. The first sign of something amiss would be the stir at the frontmost edge of the camp. Stormtroopers on guard find themselves face to face with a very disgruntled woman in peculiar black garments, not a sign of Imperial insignia or rank anywhere on her person, but barking at them with authority nevertheless. The codes she uses are both recent and of surprisingly high level access, so they can't exactly keep her out, though they do broadcast in to their superiors to let them know of the situation. This woman- giving only the name Starling- was on her way deeper into the base camp and seems hellbent on speaking to *the most senior person available*, regardless of whether or not they were currently occupied. Along the way, guards or aides that are brave enough to approach the rather intent stranger to try and help might find their way cut off by the very droids that totter around at their service. Nothing overt or intentional, just casual happenstance one after the next of the small robotic entities winding up in just the wrong place at just the wrong time to get underfoot. She doesn't seem to need any assistance figuring out the right direction to go, as she's heading towards the senior officer's area, well visible the nearer she grows. She's a sight right now, to be sure. Dark hair usually kept back in a braid is now flowly loosely about her head and roughly two to three inches shorter than it was before, hitting the middle of her back. Flecks of green and amber are tucked away in her locks, like small fibers of grass seed or bits of brush that most certainly do not belong there, but were not able to be easily shaken free. The pristine nature of her black apparel is tarnished with a light dusting of dirt in places- again, of the consistancy that it was not able to be brushed off easily. Her blue-tinted glasses are remarkably fine, but behind them, her gaze is narrowed and angry. Danik set his cup of tea down on a work desk in front of him and crossed his arms across his chest. Shortly thereafter came the noises from outside the room - someone was shouting at security troops and causing a bit of a ruckus. His attention diverted and curiosity aroused, Kreldin stepped towards the corridor to see who was the cause of all this trouble. It was a lady, that was for sure, vaguely familiar...and she was heading his way. He frowned as he tried to recall who she was. His mind set itself upon Trandosha, with the female advisor Starling who was assigned to the expedition. Ah yes.. her. What was she doing here, and what was her problem? Apparently she had high enough security access to get this far. Taking his fedora off and setting it down on a desk to his side, Kreldin prepared for the worst. "Ms. Starling, correct?" he said as she came closer. "Pleasure to see you again..." Her clothing and hair dity, and her expression one of anger, Kreldin could only imagine what businses she had here or if he was her bad side today. Recalling Trandosha, he certainly did not want that to happen. "How may I be of assistance..?" Formality is usually Sinestra's strong suit; alas, her encounter with the terrorist Force users appears to have knocked most of it clean out of her. Otherwise she'd never be conducting business in such an unkempt manner, with so little civility being afforded to those around her. Imperial business, at least. Rebel terrorists and those who do not see the beauty and order of the Galactic Empire do not deserve manners from her, only a swift kick in the teeth. "Advisor Kreldin," she begins curtly, coming to a stop right before him, maybe three or four inches closer than would normally be considered polite by the standards military etiquette dictates. There are no pleasantries, now how do you do's, no friendly smiles or cheerful banter leading into her purpose for being here before him today. "I require all of the information you have on a vessel, registration number-" and then she rattles off the registration code of a ship right out of memory. Conveniently enough, it is the registration code to the Lambda shuttle _Ensorceled_. The request, however politely chosen and utilized her vocabulary is, has that terse undercurrent as if it is not really a request after all so much as a thinly veiled demand. "Everything." Etiquette was always very important in an organization such as the Imperial Military. So it was no surprise that Danik Kreldin was a bit annoyed by Ms. Starling's lack of etiquette. Too close for comfort, Danik began to feel uneasy, and rightfully so. But, the aging war horse sucked it up, ignored her rudeness and listened in. The regristration number on the shuttle immediately caused some warning signs in Danik's brain to go off as it was instantly recognized. It was the regristration number of the very ship he was hunting down until Starling broke in. Acting quickly, as he did not like the tone of her voice, Danik quickly ushured the lady into the heart of the Imperial camp and motioned to the tactical display attached to the wall. "Your lucky day, Ms. Starling. We're after that very ship ourself," he said, and moved over to a computer monitor and pressed a few buttons. Immediately a screen appeared adjacent to the tactical display monitor which showed all the information they had on the ship. "A Lambda-class shuttle which was under Imperial service aboard the Imperator II-class star destroyer "Tormentor," my former command. Three years ago, we captured a Jedi by the name of Aurejin and had him sent to the "Tormentor". Unfortunately he escaped from his cell and stole the shuttle as he made his way to freedom. Yesterday that very ship entered the Corellian system, defied our orders..we were about to disable it, but we were distracted by a rebel fighter which entered the system right after. We have been unable to locate it so far..." he said, pointing to the tactical display monitor. "We have patrols out right now hunting it down." He turned to face Sinestra, a perplexed look on his face. "I take it you have interest in that ship as well, hmm? Maybe we can work together on this.." Her lucky day indeed. Sinestra certainly did not agree, though as she follows Danik off where he leads, she can at least find solace in that he has the information she's looking for. More than the information she expected to find, in fact- yes, maybe the winds were changing to something more in the darkly clad 'advisor' woman's favor. The baleful stare she gives the tactical display monitor would burn holes through it if her eyes possessed such powers, almost as if she's looking clear through the device to its very mechancial soul, devouring every last bit of digital information it has visible and leaving not a single drop behind. Focused gaze ahead, she listens to every last word he can relate to her, eyes causing a faint glare behind the lenses of her glasses just as the tactical display reflects across their front. Now she had another name. Aurejin. "This _Jedi_ was aboard," Sinestra relates to Danik. "As was another. A woman. A..." Nose wrinkling in distaste, as if the Imperial smelled afoul, she turns her stare upon Danik and bites out a poisonous, "/Mira/." The look of utter contempt lingers, rendering her incapable of further speech for several seconds, until finally she is able to continue. "Do you have any information on this... companion?" Both Jedi were important to locate as quickly as possible, but this one- this woman- sticks in Sinestra's craw. The offer to work together on this, further than her demanding question and answer session that has been thrust upon Kreldin, gives Sinestra yet another moment of pause. "There is surveilance equipment in many of the local docking bays, correct?" she inquires, stepping over towards whatever computer access terminal is nearest, regardless for whether or not she's technically got the authorization to do so, or whether or not it's manned or currently in use. She doesn't intend to sit at it. In fact, unless security takes the opportunity to leap at her or order her back, she would appear to simply be reaching for it with the extension of a hand as if to place that flattened palm against any part of its surface within reach. Aurejin was on Corellia now? Danik had a few run-ins in the past with the Jedi, and Danik would prefer to forget every time it happened. That Jedi caused quite a lot of trouble for this Imperial. Danik looks at Sinestra, frowning a bit as she stared at him in a rather odd way. Was it something he said? No, fortunately not, but he was still confused by the name she called off. "Mira? Mira..." he said, tapping a few buttons at his console. He accessed the Imperial network, pressed a few more buttons, and more information displayed across the screen. "Mira Isaria.. was spotted several times with Jessalyn Valios and Simon Sezirok. Crashed a shuttle into the Imperial embassy on Caspar.. Not much else on her, ma'am," he said, his head turning to look at Sinestra again only to see her at work at a computer console. He felt it necessary to stop her, but decided it was best not to. "Uh..yes, we do have cameras in place at the star ports..CorSec is in charge of that stuff, though we can tap into that if need be." Auditory information is processed by Sinestra as she takes the last stride to the computer terminal, pressing her hand solidly against it. These names mentioned along with Isaria's- Sezirok. Lisardis. /VALIOS/.- elicit a less than demure growl beneath her breath, gutteral through clenched teeth. She makes no move for the keyboard, but the monitor screen is suddenly hijacked from whatever it was doing before and goes to black, scrolling line after line of aurabesh code in white text. Beneath her glasses, her eyes are glowing intensely, just in the blue around her irises. "They have stolen something that I want." She had absoultely no idea what it was that Aurejin took from the barn that day, but she wanted it for no reason other than that -he- wanted it. It could be full of tin cans and bottles for all she cared, but if they were tin cans and bottles the Jedi desperately desired, then she longed for nothing more in this world to see him deprived of them. "Several crates, that are to be returned to me immediately upon being found." The screen suddenly flips to the splash gateway of CorSec's network, and then full-screen images begin popping up in rapid fire sequence, one after the other at an astonishing rate. It is as if one has taken a still shot from every single live camera operating in Coronet City and has folded them into a flipbook, which has then been cast into the hands of a spice fiend or a child simply using it as a makeshift fan on a hot summer day. Every so often, one picture is selected, visible only in that it appears to minimize rather than being overlaid and replaced. As abruptly as it started, the display stops. The final 'page' flips, leaving a collage of all of the pictures set aside and minimized during the journey. Some are of paths leading to the starport, those are sorted to the top and then minimized again, allowing the others to take a larger shape. From the four that remains, one is selected to come to the front, showing just the entrance of a docking bay with the nose of a shuttle inside. Aurejin and Mira are not in any of these pictures. There is nothing obvious to suggest that this would be the magic answer to their dilemma. Yet with confidence Sinestra concludes, "There." The data about which docking bay that live feed is coming off of is indicated along the bottom in a code CorSec uses to keep such things catalogued and organized, along with the date and time of the feed as it rolls along. "The man is dangerous and should be destroyed on sight. The woman..." ...Mira Isaria... "Belongs to me." "Damage her all you like, but if she dies, I will be... most displeased." Danik's eyes are glued to the monitor that Sinestra works out as she goes through video feeds of docking bays throughout Corellia. Figuring the massive amount of bays and ships throughout Corellia it would take a whole team of Imperial agents to search through the images to find what they were looking for. Was she really going to do it by herself? Danik made a mental note as the images passed by to remember the crates - although he wasn't just going to hand it off to Starling right away. The military would first scan and search through the crates before he even considered giving it to the lady. But she didn't have to know that. He was about to ask the lady if she would like a team to analyze the security camera feeds for her, figuring it was taking long enough already. However, before he could voice his question, she spoke up and claimed she had found what they were looking for. Perking up, Danik look deeply into the image and frowned. That was it? How could she be so sure? Looking over to Sinestra Danik decided not to say anything - she seemed extremely sure and he wasn't about to question her. More and more his suspicions about the lady continued to grow and he made one more mental note aside the crates to look into this Starling. Cross-referencing her image through the database ought to bring up something, he figured. But he would save that for another time. First he had business he had to attend to. Memorizing the docking bay data, Danik keyed his comlink and called for a certain colonel to join him in the command center. They had their target and they would move in swiftly before they could escape. Soon the fleet would be alerted to be prepared for the shuttle. They weren't getting away. "Very well, ma'am. We'll have Isaria and Aurejin in custody before you know it. Thank you for your assistance.." Lifting her hand from the computer terminal, control is relegated back to the input station, leaving the on-screen information intact and in place for Danik and his men to do whatever they want with. Once her fingertips leave that surface, the glow of her eyes returns to normal behind those tinted lenses. Though determination lingers upon her, the effort of whatever she has just done seems to have taken some of the bluster out of her sails, making her a hair more agreeable to be in the presence of (for whatever that is worth). "Thank you, Advisor Kreldin," she informs him, turning to face him with a squaring of shoulders and hands clasping at the small of her back. Civility has come home to roost once again, but not without a very determined tail wind. A comlink is withdrawn from a small pouch on her belt, and handed forward, possessing a pre-selected frequency and encryption key. "Contact me as soon as they are in custody," she requests, making that sound as polite and grateful as possible, though again... something in her eyes hints that it is less a request than a requirement. She is simply putting a better face on it, now that her temper is more in control. She even manages a passible smile, tight lipped as it may be. A stern nod, and she turns, set to stride out boldly exactly the way she had come in, but with a complete lack of shouting. Any subsequent search comparing Starling's present face to any recorded in the Imperial Military's image gallery would turn up several hits. No personnel file, no attached name, but someone who looks five or six years younger than this lady is dressed in the height of fashion in these photos. Several are from Adlerson's retirement party, where she hangs on the arm of recently-appointed Warlord Rellik. Several more are from other Imperial functions where the Emperor attended himself, and she is the one on his arm, a diamond-encrusted Imperial Starburst visible on a silver chain around her throat. None of the pictures are close-up shots of her with these important persons, but she is present with these people in the backdrop of images of others. The woman in these pictures is a far cry from the embodiment of fury in black that stands here today; smiling pleasantly and looking quite cordial as the moment was encapsulated for all time, she could well belong to a well-bred house of nobles whose lives revolve around social calendars and the next trendy thing in fashion. Demure enough to where a broken fingernail might be the most tragic of circumstances, could she truly be the same woman who scales the sides of cliffs to face down enormous serpents, or who would walk in here with such authority and in such a state to demand what she has from a senior military officer? Mysterious Ms. Starling, The